corrected.
"My." He took her hand and patted it. "Just have a care with your heart. That's all I'm asking."
"There's nothing to worry about. MacLean is not the sort of man I'm attracted to. He's far too arrogant."
"Glad to hear it."
She kissed his cheek. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to take my bath."
Sophia dashed upstairs, almost putting her foot down on the loose third step. "That could have been ugly," she murmured, hurrying on past.
She made her way down the hallway, deftly hopping over the loosened boards and pausing beside MacLean's door to listen a moment. She heard nothing, so she continued to her own bedchamber, where a hot bath steamed invitingly. Sighing with anticipation, she disrobed and was soon soaking in a hot tub, her feet propped up on one side as she ran a washcloth over her shoulders.
The hot water soothed her spirits and helped her mind to focus. MacLean's unexpected sensuality had disconcerted her, but now, the steam from her bath rising about her, her sore muscles relaxing as she soaked, she realized that she could turn the entire episode to her benefit.
"One battle does not a war make," she told herself firmly. Cheered by this, she rinsed off and climbed from her bath just as Mary arrived to help her dress.
When Mary had scurried back to the kitchen, Sophia sat before her mirror, a bronze silk gown framing her shoulders, paste diamonds gleaming at her throat and ears.
She collected her silk fan and a matching reticule, then went out to the hallway and down the steps, avoiding the loose board. She ran through her agenda for the evening, ticking off the items on her fingers.
Horrid meal, smoking fireplace, rattly windows, guttering candles, broken furniture, lopsided dining table and chairs, mismatched china
—
Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't see Dougal until she reached the bottom step.
He was standing beside the door to the dining room, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was dressed in formal clothes, his black coat smooth over his muscled arms and shoulders, his knitted breeches molded to his muscular legs. For some reason, the sight of those powerful thighs made her heart speed up and her body warm.
Dougal had already thought his hostess astoundingly beautiful, but her bronze silk gown was made to make a man's mouth water. The décolletage was low, revealing the full, rounded tops of her breasts over a scrap of cream-colored lace. A cream ribbon was tied beneath those breasts, the long ends fluttering down over her hips as if unable to stop caressing her delicious curves. The skirt was cut long in the back, so that it hung on the steps behind her and outlined the front of her legs in stark relief.
Every curve was accented, and the deep color of the gown made her hair appear more golden than ever.
God, he loved her hair. He burned to see it unbound, falling past her waist in a glorious sweep to her hips.
His body tightened at the thought, and it was with a decidedly forceful move that he pushed himself from the wall and strode toward her.
She paused with an expression of… not fear, but perhaps… excitement?
The idea pleased him, and he grinned. "That's a lovely fan."
She looked down, blinking as if surprised to discover an exquisitely painted fan in her hand, then shot him a rueful look. "Oh, this. I'd forgotten I carried it."
"Distracted, are you?"
"Yes, and I'm sure you know why."
A pleased smile curved his mouth. "Because of me?"
"No," she returned smoothly. "Because my father returned but a half an hour ago, and I'm worried he'll be late for dinner."
"I see. And here I had hopes that you might have missed me."
She sent him a dismissive smile. "I saw you not two hours ago."
Dougal knew a set-down when he heard one, though it was rare he was on the receiving end. It was an unpleasant sensation. "Yes, I was thinking about a nap, then…" He shrugged and glanced away. He didn't have to wait long.
"Oh, dear! The mattress was too lumpy, wasn't it?" Her rich